


We Stand On The Head Of A Needle

by Crystallized_Rose_Rebel



Series: Fullmetal Ragnarok [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Gen, Name Changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-06 00:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18839980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystallized_Rose_Rebel/pseuds/Crystallized_Rose_Rebel
Summary: Dante, the Goddess Eternal, graciously welcomes a newborn goddess to life. Ficlet.





	We Stand On The Head Of A Needle

**Author's Note:**

> Set 16 years before "So I May Never Doubt Your Sunrise."
> 
> If you think the rating is too low, let me know. It's hard for me to gauge this sort of thing.

_Year 4898 A.A._

_Date Unknown_

_Ruins of Ishval_

Her body is twisted, blood dripping from an open rib cage and skinless fingers clawing into the wet transmutation circle. There is pain, but so dull and distant as to be the anguish of someone else so very far from here and yet intimately close to her. If she had a proper mouth, or even jaws, she would be gasping for breath instead of gurgling faintly through what passes as her head. She can hear nothing and see nothing.

She senses pressure on the back of her throat as something like a pebble is pushed down it. Instinctively, she swallows. The pebble thing has no distinct taste, but an overwhelming craving for more overrides all other thought. More pebbles slip down her throat. Her body tingles and burns as she gulps them down. Gradually, she makes out a woman's voice. "That's it. Eat it all down."

A deeper and raspier voice asks incredulously, "Solaris?" A large finger prods her shoulder.

"Yes, this woman looked just like her, didn't she?" the woman answers. The words mean nothing to the blind creature now gasping through malformed jaws. "Go, Gula, before the Ishvalan men come back."

"Aw, I wanted to eat them," the other voice whines. A big hand scoops her off the ground. Horrible agony claws through her, but she only wheezes.

The woman gives a patient little sigh. "You can hunt the man with the glasses down later. Right now, retrieving our new goddess is more important."

Blurred light fills what little vision the transmuted woman has gained and she feels arid air rush over her skinless face, cutting into her tender flesh, as they dart through paths hidden and impossible for mere mortals to follow. They don't stop until the light fades and vague green shapes flickers across her hazy vision. A grainy sort of rasp grates on her ears and darkness engulfs them both. Blind in the dark, she hears nothing but the fat creature's footsteps and a constant sniffing. Gula says nothing as they continue running. She wants to ask him where they are going. She wants to eat more pebbles. Without warning, he halts, jostling her limp mangled body, and sets her down on cold stone carefully. It seems weeks, even years, before anything else happens. Gula speaks now and then, calling her ‘Solaris’ each time, but these moments are fleeting.

Someone with a light enters the room holding a bowl of pebbles and places it on the ground. The light stings malformed eyes accustomed to darkness, but the woman ignores the pain in favor of feasting on the strange pebbles, which she now sees are red and gleaming like rubies. As she gobbles them down, the tingling returns along with a cold sense of malevolence directed at something not yet known.

Gula hovers over her. "Gula, don't eat anything. The red stones are for her." She hears the woman from before say.

The pain and bleeding subsides slowly as new flesh weaves over forming organs and blood pumps through veins instead of pooling useless on the ground. Hair flows down her back in dark waves. She breathes easy now, though her tongue renders it uncomfortable with the taste of stale air and drying blood. Dark cloth wraps over her naked form and she staggers up on preformed heels. The new being sets her eyes upon her newly formed body. The long dress that formed on her doesn't cover dark shoulders and the nipples of her full bosom are barely covered by triangular strips of cloth. Her arms are clad in long elegant gloves with red lines running up them. Her eyes wander away from her own body to take in the gray stone walls surrounding them and the apish bald man sitting on the ground, toothy grin spread too wide beneath his minuscule eyes, then she looked upon her benefactor for the first time. The woman is golden and glowing with a cold inner light. Her hands are empty. A warm smile touches her lips, but there's a glint of cunning in her golden eyes.

"Unbelievable," the mysterious woman says. "She looks just like her. Like our very own Lust. What perfect timing; we've been in need of a new fertility god. Welcome, my beautiful Luxuria. I am Dante, the High Goddess and Queen Eternal."

A new... fertility god? Luxuria feels anything but godlike or fertile. A vast emptiness and longing looms inside her. How can an incomplete being be a god? How could a god be so easily removed and replaced?

The goddess Dante is still speaking. Gula is reluctantly skulking off. Luxuria struggles to focus on her words. "... your powers, Luxuria."

Luxuria carefully forms a reply through a mouth unused to speech. "My... pow...ers?"

The golden woman places a dark hand on her shoulder. It's soft and smells faintly of perfume. "Yes, your powers. Every newborn god has them."

Newborn god…. The words mean less than nothing to the still dazed and confused Luxuria. She's tired and just wants to find some place to lie down and think.

"Do you feel energy swirling at your fingertips?" Luxuria doesn't know how to answer. The woman continues, "The Noble goddess who resembles you greatly can turn her nails into spears. Let's see if the same holds true for you."

She stops speaking at last, but stands waiting. Luxuria looks down at her hand, palm facing up, and concentrates. A white flash surges across her fingertips and they rush up at her like black spears, smashing into the ceiling above, and down into the ground. Warm wetness drips down her stinging face followed by a hissing ache before the pain subsides entirely. Luxuria looks to her benefactor for guidance. "How... do...?" But already her nails are retracting.

Dante's little smile widens, triumphant. "Very good. I believe you are ready to be presented to the rest of the pantheon.”

Luxuria doesn't answer. Confused, tired, and uncertain, the emptiness and the nameless longing haven't resided any and not even the power she can now feel humming through her being, nor the healing powers that mended her self-inflicted cuts within seconds, can make her feel like an immortal and mighty goddess.

She follows the strange woman. She hears Gula’s footfalls behind her. Dante pushes open a hidden door leading to a vast embellished room. A raised gold-encrusted throne stands before them, facing a large raised transmutation circle with five points (it smells faintly like the delectable red stones) and a pair of large ornate doors with large metal knockers shaped like winged serpents biting their tails. Gula stares up at Luxuria through beady eyes, sausage finger in mouth. Dante gestures toward the throne. "Sit down. We will be back in a moment."

The new being called Luxuria doesn't know what else to do, so she obeys. The sleek fabric against her shoulder is smooth and cool to the touch like silk. The throne dwarfs her and she tries to sit in it in a more dignified manner, as if she belongs in it, resting her arms on the smooth armrests. The effort does nothing to ease her discomfort nor her lingering daze. Luxuria ponders on how very small and insignificant she and her mysterious comrades must be, cursed with fake immortal lives rocking precariously on the head of a thin needle.

-fin-


End file.
